


Shadows of the Past Haunt and Creative Monsters Hide

by Sun_Spark



Series: Sander's Sides: Shadowed Pasts, Distorted Images [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: ALL OF THIS IS MILD, Angst, Blood and Injury, Caring Deceit Sanders, Caring Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders as Pride, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Gen, He comes out and causes chaos, Healing, How Do I Tag, Hurt Deceit Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, IM JUST COVERING MY BASES, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mild Language, Past Abuse, Pride, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Protective Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Protective Logic | Logan Sanders, Protective Thomas Sanders, Self-Harm, Shared Trauma, Spoilers for the fic, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, There's a hidden Side, Trauma, Verbal Abuse, collective healing, hidden side, hurt roman sanders, hurt virigl sanders, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23961385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sun_Spark/pseuds/Sun_Spark
Summary: Directly 'After Can Lying Be Good?' Thomas and the sides make an effort to accept Deceit as part of their famILY and see past his function to his personality, much like they did with Virgil, not wanting to have a repeat of when the anxious trait had disappeared with Deceit. As the half-snake gets more comfortable with them Thomas starts to notice that he is always tense, waiting for something, and he intends to find out what it is. Before he can ask carefully the thing Deceit was afraid of comes back from eh past to haunt them all.The mysterious thing from Deceit and Virgil's isn't the only thing to return, as Roman loses control and is forced to deal with his other half, long hidden and unknown to the others...well most of them.
Series: Sander's Sides: Shadowed Pasts, Distorted Images [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819897
Comments: 21
Kudos: 164





	Shadows of the Past Haunt and Creative Monsters Hide

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, this has been done for - I am not kidding - over 2 years. I wrote this just after 'Can Lying Be Good' but I never found the time/energy to edit all 30 some odd pages. This was before Remus, back when everyone on Tumblr was like - STORY SPOILERS - Roman is Pride. 
> 
> So, uh, enjoy this two-year-old fic that kinda? aged well??? I'm proud of it but hella nervous posting it, hence why it's so late...Enjoy?

It was hardly easy, but Thomas had been making an effort to make Deceit feel like part of the family, as had the others, not wishing to repeat what had happened with Virgil. True, none of them were particularly fond of what he represented, but they attempted to set aside his function and focus on the person behind it, and they had to admit that sometimes his function was self-preservation for Thomas’ sake rather than a source of darkness. It was a rocky journey to be sure, unlearning stiff morals they’d had ingrained from childhood. It had taken some time for Deceit to drop his walls and let them in, to stop snarling and spitting lies dripping with cruelty every time they addressed him. 

Things were better, though still tense. Patton took to it the best, practically shoveling food at his new ‘snakey-kiddo’ when he realized how thin he was, and layering blankets on top of him at every random interval. The abrupt and energetic affection made Deceit jumpy and elicited many hisses out of him, but he soon learned to just accept it, startling a bit and settling with an eye-roll as Patton bumbled around him affectionately. 

Logan had “seen the logic in treating the other as a member of the group rather than ostracizing him, after all his function is not to harm you or us, Thomas” and had, as such, made an effort to converse with the lying trait whenever possible. It had been frustrating for both of them, Deceit not used to calm conversation that didn’t hide danger, and Logan annoyed at having to flip all of Deceit’s words around to mean the opposite. It didn’t help when Patton laughed gleefully and said he was “proud of his kiddos for playing opposites!” 

Virgil, oddly, had been both the worst and the best of them. He knew what it was like to be shunned and hated for a nature he couldn’t change, but Deceit’s very nature made him uneasy. Their attempts at cohabitation had been halting and tense at first, but eventually they settled into a truce on the common ground of them both acting to keep Thomas safe above all else, even if neither of them liked how the other went about it. These two could often be found silently curled up near each other, sharing the silence as they read or scrolled through their phones. To the others, it seemed tense, but Deceit and Virgil both appreciated the calm nature of their time together.

Thomas had shocked all of them when he had not only been the first one to suggest they include Deceit, but when he had gone the extra length of summoning the half-snake for the sole purpose of keeping him company. All of them, especially Deceit, had expected their host to be hostile towards the manifestation of his deception, but apparently the young man’s kindness had won over his apprehension. 

Deceit spent nearly a month waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Patton to disown him, which had admittedly come to a few close calls with the strict-moral compass the side had. Waiting for Logan to snap and yell at him in anger, shunning him permanently and attacking his core with cold facts. Waiting for Virgil to finally bare his teeth and tear at him with claws and teeth alike. Waiting for Thomas to either admit it was helpless or drop the charade of pretending he didn’t despise everything Deceit was. But it never happened, none of it, and, albeit haltingly, Deceit started to hope that maybe he was truly welcome.

The only problem was Roman, and Thomas became aware of this as Deceit began popping up more and more often, unbidden and uncalled. He didn’t really mind, the half-snake wasn’t obtrusive, and he seemed kind of lonely when he first showed up, though he denied that relentlessly. At first, he thought his Deceitful side was just more comfortable with him, that he was beginning to feel more included, and that had made him happy, but then little things had started to catch his notice. Deceit still startled when Patton popped up, but he began looking around with wide eyes, every muscles tense, as if waiting for an attack, even though Patton wanted nothing more than to wrap him in blankets, knowing the half-snake ran cold. He tensed when Logan rose up to speak with him, eyes darting to the corner nervously as he carried on the conversation, and Thomas watched, noting how he seemed ready to bolt. When Virgil appeared and flopped on the couch next to him, Deceit jumped before settling, but his eyes stayed on the tv, though nothing played on its black surface. Thomas hung back and observed, frowning as the progress they had made seemed to be erasing itself, replaced with an ever-growing fear.

He had pulled Virgil aside briefly and asked him about it, but the dark trait had only shrugged. “He’s worried about somethin’. Darn near terrified, but I dunno what.”

That hadn’t been the answer he wanted, but it was the only one Virgil had to give, so Thomas resigned himself to watching and taking note of Deceit’s reactions to, and interactions with, the others. He watched for nearly another month after the first, silently taking it all in to examine later. More than one night found him without sleep as the niggling pit of worry in his stomach kept his focus. As he stared at his ceiling late in the night, he would examined Deceit’s reactions to each side in turn, and how their interactions had changed. Thing was, at nearly three months since they had accepted him as part of the family, they hadn’t changed in any massive way. He still quietly submitted to Patton’s excessive affection with eye-rolls and snarky comments. He still sat in companionable silence with Virgil with occasional conversation and sibling-esq bickering. He still debated with Logan, and while that had not become less tense, it also had not become more so. He and Roman…Thomas sat up wide-eyed with realization. 

Three months and he had never seen Deceit interact with Roman outside of a few videos. Indeed, the snake-like side had always managed to disappear when the fanciful side showed up to talk with Thomas or one of the others when they were manifested. He would go silent and slip away as quietly as he could, while Roman held the attention of everyone else, not to reappear until Roman was gone once again. He thought about it for a moment, a sick feeling twisting in his gut. When one side showed up Deceit would scan the area where the others normally stood, as well as the rest of the room, before turning his attention to his companion, panic lessening only when his scan was complete. His eyes were always drawn to the corner, to the tv, whether it played something or not...where Roman usually stood. Thomas had seen that mentions of Disney or theatre, or any point that usually sparked an argument with the creative trait elicited muted panic from Deceit. He just hadn’t made the connection, assuming that Deceit either didn’t enjoy Disney films or loud conflict. 

Thomas frowned as he lay back down. Was Roman acting toward Deceit as he once had Virgil? He had hoped that Roman had learned better than that by now. Or perhaps things were merely tense between them because of Deceit’s manipulation of the creative trait months ago? He wanted an answer to these questions, but…. he sighed, he wasn’t going to summon them and risk accidentally cornering Deceit and making him panic with his queries. Or getting Roman defensive and hostile. He would wait, he wasn’t sure for how long, but he needed a better plan than that.

***

As fate would have it, finicky mistress with a twisted sense of humor that she was, he never got to make a better plan, though he did get the answers to his questions, just not how he would have liked.

Very rarely did all the sides, or even more than one or two of them, gather in Thomas’s physical living room if they were not filming a video or if he wasn’t having a crisis, but today was different. Thomas was relaxing on the couch, Logan was reading a novel in the armchair, Patton was ‘doing’ a puzzle on the floor, meaning he was haphazardly putting the pieces together, Virgil was curled up on the other couch on his phone, and Deceit was contentedly curled up under Thomas’s arm like an adorable puppy, half asleep. He’d figured out rather quickly after Deceit had started to trust them that the half-snake trait got cold very easily and would take almost any excuse to leech body heat from someone else, not that Thomas or Virgil, his usual ‘victims’, minded. The only one missing from their gathering was Roman. That was soon to change as the Prince rose in his regular spot, boisterous voice filling the room without warning.

“Thomas! About the next video, I was just thinking, and we should totally-“ he stopped as his eyes fell on Deceit, who had gone tense and wide-eyed but was unable to sink out, held as he was to Thomas’s side. Roman crossed his arms over his chest, both eyes and tone falling flat and cold. “What is _he_ doing here?”

Thomas’s brow tic’ed up as he looked at Roman, his own voice betraying nothing of his sudden annoyance. “He spends quite a bit of time here, Roman, which you’d know if you spent any time with him.” It was a mild reproach for not making an effort, and he certainly wasn’t expecting the response he got as the prince’s eyes quite literally flashed an amber color in anger before returning to brown.

“ _Spend time with him?_ ” Ah, well, storms were so often calm before they roared. “ _ **Why the hell would I want to spend time with that vermin?!**_ ” The prince spat. Deceit curled into Thomas’s side as Virgil grit his teeth, unconsciously settling into a tense posture, fight or flight gearing up. To his side, Logan set his book down, cold steel in calm eyes as he gazed between Roman and Deceit. Patton went still, trembling as if sadness and anger and shock were warring inside him and he couldn’t decide which to settle on. Thomas leveled a glare at roman.

“ _What. Was. That?_ ” Virgil flinched minutely, having never heard such an icy hard tone from the normally joyful man, but Thomas paid him no mind as his attention remained on a now agog Roman. The fanciful side recovered from his shock quickly, red flushing his features with anger, venom rivaling any snake’s lacing his words. “You heard me, Thomas.” He scoffed “I have no wish to consort with the likes of that _**snake**_. I fail to see why you would!”

Thomas tightened his arm around Deceit ever so slightly, stopping the increasingly nervous side from leaving. “I wish to spend time with Deceit because he is a **_part_** of me. Part of me that _I care about_. And he is _**far**_ more than his job Roman, which you would know if you made _**any**_ effort to know him.”

Roman scoffed, a hand waving through the air dismissively. “Oh please, Thomas! He is a **_villain._** There is not a **single** good thing he can do. All he does is **lie** and **hurt** us, and you, and _**your friends**_ when he influences you! He is a _**dark side!**_ ”

No one noticed Virgil flinch a second time, wounded eyes glaring at Roman. Deceit couldn’t take anymore, he had had enough. He lurched off the couch, tearing himself from Thomas’s grip, teeth bared and eyes glaring furiously as he stood before Roman, the several feet between them irrelevant as he spat. “And you most certainly **aren’t** one yourself, **_Pride!_** ”

Deceit went still, his eyes going wide as the blood drained from his face. He clapped a hand over his own mouth, terror at his own words clear as he began shaking. Logan stared at him, emotionless and evaluating, while Patton was momentarily jolted out of his inner conflict for sorrow or rage by shock. Virgil jolted into a standing position, fight or flight thrown into overdrive to the point of short-circuiting, eyes widening to show more white than color as his gaze locked onto Roman, seeing him in a way he hadn’t before. Roman, for his part, had gone still, ice creeping in where a moment ago there had been fire.  
Everything remained still a moment, a single long echoing click sounding through the room as the clock’s hand moved, before the tense silence was broken as Roman audibly snarled. He lunged forward and grasped the sides of Deceit’s collar, lips pulled back in a snarl. “You take that back you **_foul creature! I am not like you!_** ” 

Thomas stood quickly, Roman’s name catching on his tongue, as Virgil made a jerky movement forward and halted again, fight to flight unsure how to handle the current situation as memories of another royal side flooded his memory, blocking his desperate wish to protect Deceit. Patton stood with a cry of “Roman-!” but stumbled and Logan gripped the sides of his chair with white knuckles, eyes fastened unblinkingly on the dispute before him, ready to move should he need to, but unwilling to act before he understood what the hell was going on.

Deceit, despite his trembling, bit back his fear, figuring the only way to handle this was to face the monster he had just unchained, though his anger may have fueled that particular, ill-advised, plan. He pulled his lips back in a snarl of his own, glaring furiously at the other. “What? Don’t want everyone else to see you for who you **aren’t?** ” He got his footing, regaining his balance despite Roman’s hold on him. “Or don’t you want to **not** look at yourself?” His tone turned mocking, despite the hatred in his sneer and the fear in his chest. “Pity, you used to _~love~_ nothing more, what with all those mirrors you **didn’t** used to have in your room, **_Pride._** ”

Roman’s eyes flashed in pure rage, a snarling growl wrenching out of his throat as he pulled Deceit closer to him roughly, one hand raised into a fist as if to strike the smaller side. **_“That is not my name!”_** He roared furiously.

Deceit looked up into no longer brown eyes, seeing the chains falling away and the creature so long caged inside coming out. He began to shake in earnest, mindless terror wiping any trace of bravery from his being.

Thomas moved, quickly grabbing hold of Deceit’s shoulders and pulling him back sharply, resulting in the smaller stumbling back and landing against their host’s chest. Thomas’s arms encircled him protectively as he stared at the enraged side before him, shock, but not quite fear lancing through his tone. “Roman! That is enough!”

The side in questions growled, stalking forward a step, his eyes only for Deceit. Patton’s eyes caught on Roman’s chest and he stumbled up from the floor, a cry on his lips as worry won out over rage and sorrow both. “Roman, stop it!” He made to grab the other, but Logan stood swiftly, an arm outstretched to stop the movement. Patton stopped and stared at him wide-eyed, Logan only shook his head silently. The moral side swallowed thickly and nodded, holding still. Thomas bared his teeth. “Princey, I’m warning you, enough already!”

The royal trait paid him no mind, gaze locked on the half-snake trait who was pressing back against Thomas fearfully, yet meeting his eyes defiantly. He’d be damned if he was going to go out sniveling. Virgil’s fight-or-flight response finally pulled out of its spiraling nose dive and he jolted forward through the step he had frozen halfway through. He stared at Roman, eyes wide with fright, chest beginning to heave in preparation to hyperventilate, still, he kept his tone even, dripping in panic though it was. “Roman.” The other didn’t acknowledge him. _‘Damn it. He can’t be! Please, he can’t!! …but his eyes…’_ he took a shaky breath and stalled his mounting panic.

“Roman. Your eyes are red.” Red. Orange. Gold. Amber. Colored like fire and shifting wildly in rage.

Roman jerked back as if physically struck, eyes breaking away from Deceit and flying to Virgil in near panic. “No.” His voice was tight, fear coating it, freezing the flames of his rage. _‘nononononono!!! Not again! No! This can’t be happening….this is just a nightmare! Not real, notrealnotrealnotrealnonononono!’_ he stumbled back, hands tangling in his own hair as his breaths began to come in short bursts, half the words in his head, the other mumbled frantically.

Patton’s timid voice filtered through his racing thoughts from where the father figure was protectively held behind Logan’s side. “Ro…what’s wrong with your chest?”

Roman’s eyes flew to his chest, wide and panicked, and took in a sight he’d hoped never to see again. An inky blackness was seeping through his pristine white clothes, a pinprick starting over his heart, spreading out like an oil spill. It clung to him and stretched, arching away from his body like a living darkness. He stumbled back another step, panic clear in every line of his body as his hands frantically clawed at the darkness, trying desperately to tear it away from himself. “N-no! I-I” His eyes flew to Thomas and back to his chest. “I-I have to go!”

He popped out of existence in the manner Virgil and Deceit did, not risking the time it would have taken to sink out, ignoring frantic twin calls of his name from Patton and Thomas. He reappeared in his theatre, center stage under blinding spotlights, the world around him a haze of yellow light and the blurred shapes of the darkened auditorium.

He looked down at his chest and his thought were overrun by panic.

_‘No, not again!’_

Inky blackness, living darkness.

_‘I threw you out! Not again!’_

Rising from his breast, from his heart.

_‘I can’t!’_

It arches around him, living, breathing,

_‘I banished you!’_

It slid over his skin, caressing him, surrounding him, he tore at it, felt it choking him.

_Y-you can’t have me, not again!’_

Like the greeting of a lover,

_‘D-don't! Stop!’_

It covered him, suffocated him, he couldn’t claw it off,

_‘Leave me alone!’_

It seeped into his skin, slid down his throat, choking him, poisoning him as it filled his being.

_‘I don’t want this, not again!’_

It swirled around him in a vortex of darkness, sinking into him and changing him, warping him into something else. When all stood still, silence reigned.

_‘Well hello there~.’_

Where Roman had stood was a slightly taller man, dressed in black robes not unlike those the creative side normally wore, intricate golden buttons and cords decorating the fabric, and a crimson cape draped around his shoulders in place of the scarlet sash the prince was known for, falling to brush the heels of polished black boots trimmed with delicate golden chains. The spotlights fell on him, their light striking perfect skin and sharper features, pale pink lips curled in a sharp smile. He stood tall, chin held high, power radiating from his posture. A crown of silver and black rested on his head, impossibly deep, blood-red jewels set around its circumference, sucking in all the light that hit them.

 _“Roman. **Roman!** ”_

The figure cocked his head to the side jerkily. He hadn’t been able to hear the calls during his transformation, but now that he looked, he could see the others and their host standing on the side of the stage, watching him in varying degrees of shock, curiosity and horror. His moves were lithe and graceful as he turned dark flame-red eyes on them.

“Well, well, what have we here?” He purred in a voice deep and soft like velvet, it felt like ice sliding down Virgil’s spine, clawed poison stealing his breath away while it snapped his spine. The man grinned as he stepped toward them, swaying with easy poise, presence filling the room in a manner that the great actors could only dream of achieving, and he purred, _“Come to watch the show~?”_

He stepped closer to them but did not leave the circle of light radiating from the spotlights, still standing center stage. His red gaze fell on Deceit and he sneered, voice cold and arrogant. “I suppose I ought to thank you for releasing me,” he sniffed turning his head away dismissively, “but I don’t make a habit of showing such kindnesses to lowly creatures such as you.”

Deceit, hiding behind Thomas, shrank back with a whimper, stumbling into the curtain as his body shook violently. Virgil’s protective instincts kicked in, overruling the dire need to run as far away from this **_thing_** as he could, and he stepped in front of the other, arms raised protectively as he stared wide-eyed at what had been Roman, panic racing in his veins. They both remembered quite well what this creature had considered _‘kindness’_ to ‘lesser’ creatures, and the memories paralyzed them.

Thomas’s eyes flicked back to them in concern but wisely focused back on center stage. Perhaps not as wisely, he stepped forward and cleared his throat before meeting the stranger’s eyes. “What is going on?”

The figure smiled brightly, “Oh just a show, that’s all!” He said it almost jovially as he turned toward the front of the stage, half facing them, flicking a hand dismissively. “Any great actor must master the art of transformation, as you’ve just witnessed. Sadly,” he sighed forlornly, but the smirk on his face was smug “few ever manage it~.”

Thomas frowned and went to speak but a second whimper cut him off, louder and more pitiful than terrified as Deceit’s had been. It emanated from a distraught Patton who was being held back once again by Logan’s outstretched arm. “Roman? Kiddo?”

The figure sneered disdainfully, and Virgil spoke up, the words he’d been trying to form finally spilling from his lips, squeezing their way through a panic choked throat. “Th-that’s not Roman Patt, tha-that’s-” he choked off, breathes coming too quick and short to speak as flaring red eyes gazed coldly into his own. Deceit’s shaky voice sounded from behind him, filled with more terror than either logic or morality had ever thought possible, a whisper, a whimper, and a scream crushed together in his vocal cords to create this single syllable. **_“Pride.”_**

With all eyes back on him in varying degrees of concern, alarm, and fear, what once was Roman rolled his eyes. “Well!” He huffed “That introduction was just dismal!” He smiled wide and turned back to face Thomas, grace and arrogance dripping from his every pore as he raised a hand in a graceful arc so like the prince’s normal gestures but so much more sinister. “But indeed, I am **_~Pride~_**.” He finished with a flare, and one might think he would have bowed dramatically with a sweeping gesture, but this man did not bow to anyone, not even his host.

Thomas glanced at the sides behind him, worry for their safety overtaking his penchant for resolving things with humor. He took a deep breath to steady himself and forced his eyes to meet those of Pride. “Roman? What is going on?”

The figure sneered. “ _‘Roman’?_ ” He scoffed and waved a hand as if batting the offending name from the air. “What a pathetic name.” He drawled, “No, I am _**Romulus.**_ ” He finished dramatically, holding himself up like a king over his subjects.

Logan stood in preemptive protection before Patton, hummed as he often did before providing information. “‘Romulus’. Founder and first king of Rome. Considered in Roman myth to be among the most powerful and impressive men to ever live. Blessed by the divine and raised by wolves. Stronger and more accomplished than any general who followed after him. Killer of his own brother and descendant of the Roman gods and both Latin and Greek nobility.” **_Romulus_** smirked, but Logan continued, voice sharp. “Also one of the most highly conceited and foolish men to ever exist, if indeed he ever did.” The dark man sneered and looked as if he might leave his precious circle of light, if only long enough to strike Logan.

Thomas side-stepped ever so slightly and placed himself in front of the others as if to block them from Pride’s gaze. He pressed his lips together unhappily, keeping his tone even. “Where is Roman?”

A scoff preceded his answer. “I **_am_** Roman. Or rather, he is me, I came first after all.”

“Then why are you…. this version of you…here now?

The other hummed, tilting his head and swaying side to side as if bored with the whole conversation. “I simply saw no reason to continue as I was. Denying myself was quite…detrimental…” he frowned at speaking negatively of himself. “to my success. Honestly, why I ever bothered subduing myself so others would feel less inferior,” He broke off with a scoff and a shake of his head, burning red eyes glaring at Virgil and Deceit. “I’ll never know.” He waved a hand dismissively as he turned away, moving as if half remembering a dance. “But no need to worry Thomas! The work you share with the world will be beyond adequate, rather, it will be quite spectacular now that I no longer see a need to play nice.”

Thomas frowned but attempted the gentler approach he normally took when one of his traits was acting out. “Wha- hey now, no need for that. I’m sure we can all get along just fine without anyone feeling inferior.” 

Pride rolled his eyes while Virgil grit his teeth, forcing out words past his chocking panic. “Thomas.” Brown eyes focused on the anxious trait curiously, and worriedly at the strangled sound. “He…he won’t listen… he’s **_Pride!_** ” He said the name almost frantically, as if trying to convey the sheer depths of his terror through that one word alone. “He thrives off feeling superior…I…. we…” his voice broke and he stopped to take a breath. “Pride doesn’t play well with others Thomas, he can’t, not knowing he can never be good at their roles.”  
He had intended to say more but a vicious snarl cut him off and he flinched back violently, lowering into a crouch and pressing back against Deceit, who clung to him from behind, eyes flying to where Pride stood, fist curled at his side, looking for all the world like he might just cross the stage and attack Virgil.

“I thought I taught you manners _brat._ ” He spat the cruel nickname, “or do you need to be taught again? You and your” he adopted a high, squeaky, mocking voice, as he tilted his head condescendingly, “precious little snake~?” 

“Now that is enough!” Pride’s eyes tracked to Patton, the fatherly figure having stepped out from behind Logan just a bit, fists balled at his sides and anger in his eyes as his whole body trembled from the force of it. “You have no right to come here and threaten our family. Even Roman wouldn’t cross that line!”

Pride smiled, mocking and sickeningly sweet, bouncing once on the balls of his feet and clapping three times in mock excitement - a mockery of Patton’s usual gestures. “Oh Morality, so you finally grew a spine, hmm? Shame it doesn’t make an appearance when your lungs are being crushed by depression, eh?” His smile grew wider, sharper, as Patton flinched back. “How dismal a job you do _Morality_ , too bloody broken and malfunctioning under your own emotions to even work properly.” His eyes and voice took on a hard glint. “If you can’t stand up straight and do your job, maybe we should remove that spine of yours and let someone else do it, hmm?”

Patton shrunk back with a whimper and Logan stepped in front of him with a frown. “Surely your functions do not require harming the other facets of Thomas’s personality? What purpose could this possibly serve?”

Pride paused, tilting his head to the side in contemplation, a neutral expression sliding over his face. “Logic. Perhaps the only one I have no issue with. You work well, and you take great pleasure in your work, carrying it out efficiently and with dignity. _Tsk._ ” He clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing as he shook his head in disappointment. “But you can’t even make yourself heard without someone else to silence the drivel. Shame really, that you conflict with my goals. You’ll learn to be silent, even if I have to remove your vocal cords.” He smiled sweetly, saying it like a child who just told their mom they just saw the most amazing thing. Thomas’s back straightened and he lifted his chin, fear-driven defiance taking root, but he was stopped before he could speak as Pride let out a series of high, childlike laughs.

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, Thomas!” He shot a look at Virgil and smiled sickeningly sweet and cruel, making the other cower. “There won’t be any reason to soon enough~.” He laughed then pouted playfully. “It really is all for the best, you just don’t take any real _**Pride**_ in your function or your work.” He smiled, wide and sharp and deadly, playfulness gone and replaced with cold cruelty, voice falling to a deep and melodic tenor, hypnotizing. “We’ll fix that.”

He took a step forward, towards the group.

 _‘NO!’_

He stumbled as the shout both sounded through his mind and echoed through the theater, resonating through every cell of his being. 

_‘No! You can’t!’_

His form began to blur and he clutched at his own chest. “What the _**hell?!**_ ”

_ ‘I won’t let you’  _

As the others watched, the dark kingly form began to pull away, separating from the prince beneath like a specter.

_‘You do enough damage in me! **You don’t get to come out and do more!’**_

A violent gust of wind nearly blew them back, forcing them to close their eyes as dust flew up from the stage. When they looked again four gasps and a fifth grunt of surprise sounded, echoing through the empty room. 

Roman was kneeling center stage, slumped over and panting, face turned up to stare brokenly at the dark form of pride, hovering in the air above him like smoke, form flickering and almost transparent. Only his top half was manifested, while what should have been his bottom half turned into inky darkness at his waist, curling elegantly down like smoke and toward the other, connecting him to Roman in slimy tendrils that stabbed their way through his black shirt, into his chest. 

It appeared very much like a broken man facing a spirit that had been possessing him, now forced partially from his body. Distantly Virgil’s snark informed him that Hamlet would be proud. 

Pride scowled down at Roman, seemingly more annoyed than bothered. Roman panted and grit his teeth, voice a whisper, rough as sandpaper. _“No.”_

Pride scoffed, his voice sounding musical even in that harsh sound, while Roman sounded as if he had been screaming a thousand years without reprieve. “ _‘No’?_ Whatever do you mean by that~? Not ready for the performance to end?” He smirked, voice turning sickly sweet and cruel. “Don’t worry~…. There’ll be plenty more~”

Roman’s eyes flashed, the golden orange of a sunrise instead of bloody red. **_“No!”_** He clutched his side and coughed, red speckling the ground before him. He paid it no mind as he glared up at Pride, snarling. “ ** _You do enough damage without a physical form! You’ll not take one and harm them!_** ” 

Pride snarled, leaning down inches from Roman’s face. “You can’t even move, and you think you have any say in this?” He hissed furiously, then straightened back up, pouting like a disappointed teacher. “ _Tsk._ How unsightly, arguing with yourself!”

Roman flinched but continued to glare, unfalteringly, up at the other, coughing up more red. “ _ **We are not the same.**_ ” The specks of red began to pool into small drops on the floor.

His counterpart laughed, a magical sound like a hundred musical bells in a summer breeze. “Oh Roman, Roman, **Roman!** ” He leaned down, grasping the prince’s chin harshly, tilting his head back painfully, and looking him in the eye. “ **I. Am. You.**” He tilted his head to the side, smiling in a manner that might have been kind, as one might smile at a child they found endearing, but its sharp edges spoke of nothing but malice. “Good thing too~ lucky little prince you are.” He released Roman’s chin with a snap of his wrist, nearly giving the man whiplash, standing back up with a click of his tongue. “Could you imagine any of **_them_** being a king?” He scoffed “No. They are far too flawed to hold such an honor.”

Roman stared down at the floor with a broken expression on his face, small trails of blood dripping from his lips. “You couldn’t handle being imperfect, could you?” He whispered. Pride just hummed and turned away from him as far as he could while they were connected, flipping a hand dismissively. “Why should I? There is not an imperfect thing about me. Something you should be grateful for, seeing as I am quite literally, you. I don’t know why you bother to hide it. You’re a subpar actor Roman, hardly a creator at all, simply stunted while you deny your nature.” He hummed as if in thought. Logan wondered if this is what it was like to stare up at a madman before they dissected you. “We’ll have to fix that as well.”

Roman looked up at him, gazing past him with hazy vision to see his family cowering. Logan holding onto a crying Patton, Virgil crouched protectively in front of a terrified Deceit, the both of them shaking in fear, all of them cowering behind Thomas…Thomas…his host was staring at him, not at Pride, but at him. He stood straight, almost relaxed, staring and somber. Roman couldn’t read his expression, and that alone stabbed pain into his gut. He looked back at Pride, expression withdrawn and resigned. “A King?” He whispered, a small sound, so much like an unsure child.

Pride smirked, not turning back to him. “ ** _Yes._** The little prince could be a king again, perfect and powerful.” he said in a sing-song manner before his voice started dripping honey “Wouldn’t you like that Roman?”

Roman raised a shaky hand, grasping the crown on his head and bringing it down to chest level. He held it there between shaking palms as he stared at it. Perhaps it was his imagination, too many hours spent in the theatre, but the weight of his family and host’s stares seemed so heavy they might crush his lungs, their fear so thick in the air it was stifling. He gripped the crown tightly and twisted, muscles straining and protesting, ignoring the blood that spilled as his fingers slid over the sharpened edges of the steel spires. The metal creaked and Roman strained. The crown snapped in half, the metallic _‘schlink’_ echoing through the auditorium, seemingly endless. He gripped the halves in shaking hands as Pride spun around to face him, surprise etched on his face. He let them fall, the two halves falling with his blood, the hollow _‘thunk’_ as it hit the wood of the stage marking the moment he met Pride’s eyes. “Some princes don’t become kings.” He meant to spit it vehemently, but it came out surreally calm and hoarse.

Pride stared, then he laughed. “You think breaking your crown makes you any less a king?!” He laughed again “You were never a prince, Roman! You only pretended to be, dressed in white, no crown on your head. Another part executed nearly perfectly.” He leaned over and picked up the edge of roman’s cloak, holding it up. “But your true colors shine through, don’t they, majesty?” The last word was taunting as he stood again, letting the edge of the cape fall, lazily through the air, settling over Roman’s bloodied hands.

Roman stared at it, watching his blood seep into the fabric, barely darkening the crimson cloak. His eyes fell to his own chest, to the black fabric there, taunting him with its symbolism. His hands lifted of their own accord, before the thought was finished, and fisted in the fabric. He pulled, the cloth tearing under the force, and he tossed it away, shirt and cloak landing a few feet away. He sat there, bare-chested, and met pride’s eyes again, expecting anger, but the other merely clicked his tongue and shook his head, seemingly amused with this all.

“Such a petulant child! Clothes don’t make the king, Roman. They aren’t part of you, they simply hide you from prying eyes, an indication of status.” He chuckled, light and airy as it was dark and terrifying. “Honestly, if perfection was always on display, lesser creatures would never get anything done!” He scoffed then, staring down his nose at Roman with disdain. “Stop being such a child.” 

Roman dropped his hand to his knee, palm up and open, summing an ornate dagger to his hand. A gleaming silver blade the length of his hand melted into a golden handle, carved in intricate designs and inlaid with shining jewels. He held it up at chest level, slowly twirling it around in his hand, examining it without expression. Inwardly he snorted, _‘So dramatic. Even now.’_

Pride raised a brow at him, sneering at him from where he hovered, hands folded behind his back in an almost military style. “And what are you going to do with that? Stab me? You’ll just harm yourself you fool.”

Roman pulled his lips back in a snarl, the first expression he’d shown since his outburst. “No.” He raised the blade to the side of his face, laying its side against his temple. He held the other’s gaze, tone mocking. “But then, you can’t stand imperfection, can you?” He brought the blade down swiftly, cutting a gash that ran from his forehead to his chin, cutting over the corner of his eye but barely missing the eye itself. He cried out and dropped the blade, pressing his hands to his face and curling into himself in pain as blood flowed from the wound.

Pride screeched in rage, all pretenses of grace or elegance cast aside, lunging forward with hands reaching out toward Roman in claws. **_“Damn you!”_** He broke apart as he fell, fracturing into smoke that settled over Roman’s back, seeping into him and settling under his skin.

Roman sat where he was, curled tightly into himself, shoulders shaking in quiet sobs. 

It took a moment for the others to react, for them to comprehend what they had just witnessed and for them to process it. Deceit slowly uncurled himself, clutching to the back of Virgil’s hoodie as he whispered, “Is he **not** gone?” Virgil nodded softly, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat, “Yeah, I think he is.” The two slowly uncurled themselves from their defensive positions, adrenaline still coursing through their veins in anticipation. 

Patton unlatched himself from Logan’s side and tried to run forward, but he stumbled for the tears in his eyes. Logan caught him round the waist and the moral trait held onto him, eyes not leaving Roman’s figure as he cried. “Is he alright?!” 

“I believe he will be Patton, but I cannot know that without examining him.” 

Patton made to move again but fear held him back and he froze with a whimper, “Is…is Pride…?”

Logan nodded curtly. “I don’t believe he will return any time soon, but I cannot be sure.”

Thomas remained silent in all of this, though it was only a mere few seconds, watching everything happen. He released the breath he was holding quietly and walked forward when the others could not on their own, luckily, he wasn’t any of them, he was all of them. He sank to his knees next to Roman softly, not wishing to startle the distraught side, and gently laid a hand on the other’s back. “Roman?”

The side in question flinched at the touch, whimpering pitifully and curling into himself more tightly.

“Roman, it’s ok.” He rubbed his thumb over Roman’s shoulder comfortingly. “Whatever just happened, we’ll figure it out, ok? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all of that wasn’t in your control. It’s gonna be alright.”

A whimper and a choked sob were his answer. He sighed, not wanting to push the issue, but he could see crimson blood slowly spreading over the floor and he knew he couldn’t leave this until Roman was ready, the wound couldn’t wait that long. He gently grasped Roman’s chin and lifted his face, meeting his utterly destroyed expression with one of near serenity and concern. “Roman. You have to look at me. We have to take care of that cut.”

Roman’s eyes met his briefly, but the creative side flinched, and they jerked away to land, unseeingly out at the rows of seats. Thomas didn’t sigh, he didn’t reprimand him, he didn’t react in any negative way, merely tilted his head a bit to the side, kept his eyes on Roman’s looking away from him, and spoke softly, more breathing the word than speaking it. _“Ro.”_

Roman whimpered quietly, eyes falling shut as he twitched, body seeming to want to fold in on itself but frozen in place under his host’s gaze. The nickname had broken something in him though, the need to hide overcome by a wish to do what was asked of him. He opened his mouth but only a choked sound came from his throat, prompting new tears. He squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop them from falling and gritted his teeth, nodding once tersely.

Thomas sighed lightly through his nose and sat back a bit, turning his gaze to the others, taking note of each of them in turn as he curled his hand over the back of Roman’s neck, comforting and firm, grounding. 

Logan’s eyes were cold as he stood at near military attention, but not emotionless. Thomas knew this was Logan’s care for the others manifesting in a protective need to understand everything, so he could defend them from harm, logic cold and unbending as steel. But where there was wariness, there was no anger. 

Behind him was Patton, hunched in on himself and pressed to Logan’s shoulder, hands fisted in the polo always pristine, now rumpled under the fatherly trait’s hands. Logan’s arm was still outstretched protectively, to keep Patton back and to place himself as a barrier between the other and any potential harm, it wasn’t straight through, it was curled backward, nearly wrapped around Patton. Morality’s eyes gazed out from behind thick glasses, worry and sorrowful pain mixed with a bit of hurt shone through unshed tears, as his teeth worried his lower lip. Thomas’s gaze moved on. 

Deceit’s mismatched eyes laid on Roman, clear fear overpowering everything else, though concern peaked through at the edges. While Patton was barely hidden behind Logan, Deceit was barely visible from where he hid himself at Virgil’s back, hands fisted in the other’s jacket just under his shoulder blades, his nose tucked behind Virgil’s shoulder to reveal only the top of his head and those piercing eyes. He was scared, but Thomas could see he didn’t want to abandon the others, or, he suspected, Roman.  
Lastly, his gaze shifted to Virgil and he almost wanted to chuckle at the dual nature of everything about the side. He stood nearly as tense as Logan, arms at his sides and hands fisted, lips pulling back ever so slightly at the corners as if he wanted to snarl, his fight reflexes more than ready to tear any threat apart. Yet he pressed back against Deceit, as if he wanted to both shield the other and curl back into his chest, his shoulders were hunched ever so slightly inward with his chin tucking towards his chest, his legs too were tense, but they were angled as if to run away, so his flight reflexes too were overwhelmed. His eyes though were the oddest bit. Fear lit their edges, but the centers focused on Roman with such intensity that, if not for Thomas’s understanding of the anxious side’s nature, he wouldn’t have known if that gaze wanted to tear roman apart or mend him.

Thomas himself was more somber than normal, a rare jaded maturity replacing his playfulness. He wasn’t angry, in fact at the moment he wasn’t even upset, rather, it was as if an unearthly calm had settled over him. A need to protect those that felt more like family than mere aspects of his personality clashing with a need to mend and heal that one that was injured, spinning round and round until they merged. He released a second deep breath and turned his gaze back to Roman for a moment. 

Roman was…scared. No…he was terrified and in pain, every line of his figure screamed it. Thomas shook his head minutely and let his eyes slip shut, centering himself silently he exercised a power he knew he had but didn’t fully understand. The world seemed to tilt slowly on its axis before righting itself upside down. When he opened his eyes again they were back in his living room. The others were all standing by the stairs while he and Roman found themselves kneeling in the center of the living room.

He breathed deeply, quietly, and centered himself. Gently he grasped Roman’s shoulders and made to lift him just a bit. “Roman.” He kept his voice soft, but the other flinched all the same “Roman, Let’s get you on the couch, ok?”

Roman didn’t answer, but he did get his feet under himself and try to stand. His legs were weak, and he stumbled immediately. Thomas had anticipated this and practically picked the other up, using the prince’s momentum to set him on the couch. Roman hunched into himself once again as soon as he was seated, legs curling close to his chest and shoulders hunching as his eyes pressed shut. Thomas knelt on the floor beside him, a hand on his shoulder, and paused a moment to send a searching glance over the others. From the corner of his eye he could see Logan standing close to his normal spot, merely further forward and closer to Virgil’s, turning himself ever so slightly to let Patton lean against the wall and still remain curled into the logical man’s side. Virgil was in his normal space, and he had herded Deceit to sit on one of the steps, the lying trait having done so but remained pressed forward, every line of his body making it clear he wanted to press himself into Virgil’s side and stay there. Virgil likely would have let him, but his protective instincts and fight or flight reflexes had him half knelt half crouched in front of the stairs, easily ready to spring up and run or come up swinging if needed, so he settled with reaching back to place a hand on Deceit’s arm in comfort. One of Deceit’s hands was nearly crushing Virgil’s. Both kept their eyes on Roman and Thomas, one fearful the other tense.

Thomas looked away from them all and closed his eyes again, breathing steadily, pushing down the sudden swell of sadness in his chest. The sides were something between imagination and reality, everything about them one step from nothingness and an equal step from solid form, Thomas knew this. He understood it on a base level and knew that it was the reason he could interact with them as he did. He also understood that the games the sides played, making sweaters and sheet music and rubiks cubes appear out of thin air was a similar concept. It didn’t come as easily to him as it did to them, but he could use that ability. After a few moments, he felt a weight settled in his empty hand resting against his leg and opened his eyes to find a first aid kit in his grasp. He didn’t question it, understanding that focusing too hard on the fact that this thing was only half real would make it fade. Instead, he turned his gaze and attention back to the creative trait. 

“Roman.” He sounded as if he were talking to a frightened animal, intentionally gentle and conveying steady strength, but sure enough Roman flinched inward regardless. “I need to treat that cut. I need you to move your hand and let me clean it.”

Roman’s whimper was the quietest in existence, Thomas was sure. But he remained calm, no frustration in his tone, or even his mood. “Roman, you need to move your hand.” He let his hand trail slowly down Roman’s arm from his shoulder, then up to his wrist. There he gently curled his fingers around the other’s hand and applied a gentle yet firm pressure to pull the limb away. Roman was tense, but he didn’t fight him as Thomas pressed the hand against Roman’s leg, silently nudging the other to drop his legs as well.

Thomas scanned the wound with his eyes and frowned. Starting at the inside of Roman’s temple it dangerously skirted over the outer corner of his eye, bowed outward slightly on his cheek, and fell in a sharp line down past his chin. He was lucky the momentum hadn’t made the blade hit his throat. It wasn’t deep enough to be deadly, barely going beneath the layers of skin to the muscle beneath, but it was deep enough to worry the man, and certainly deep enough to scar. Gently squeezing Roman’s hand on the prince’s lap, both for reassurance and to make sure he kept it there, he opened the medical kit and retrieved the disinfectant and a few cloths. 

Gently grasping the other’s chin, he tilted his head to give himself more room to work. He kept his hand there afterward to ensure Roman wouldn’t move. Silently he started at Roman’s temple and began cleaning the cut, taking great care around his eye. For a time, they sat in silence, the others slowly relaxing the tiniest amount, but not fully, where Thomas kept an eye on them in his peripheral vision. Roman sat still and tense, silent tears slipping from his closed eyes, his lower lip no longer trembling but nearly white from the pressure where it was trapped between his teeth. Thomas worked silently and carefully. For a time, the silence reigned, but once Thomas had reached Roman’s cheek he broke it, tone even and calm.

“So that was Pride. I know who, what he is…in theory…but who is he to you, Roman?”

Roman’s eyes flew open as he flinched and tried to look away, his whole body trying to recoil but he didn’t move far before Thomas’s grip stilled him. “He…I….” He closed his eyes again, voice choking with tears. “I was him… to start with…when you were younger, still a child.”

Thomas frowned as he continued to clean the cut, wincing as Roman flinched in pain. “Then why are there two of you? You’re my creativity, aren’t you? How can you be both?”

Roman’s eyes opened halfway, focusing on the floor before him without truly seeing it. The prince smiled, but there was no humor in it, just tired weariness. “None of us have only one function. I was…him…when you were a child, before your imagination grew, back when your fantasies and dreams were fueled by the creativity of your parents. Eventually, as all children do, you began to imagine on your own, without their stories….and you were so… ** _proud_** ” his voice hitched in pain, “of what you created, that eventually, I became creativity too.”

The host furrowed his brows as he began closing the wound and securing it with steri-strips. “Then why are you separate now?”

A small sound of sorrow and pain broke out of roman’s throat, tears brimming at his eyes that he held back. “I am your ego, Thomas, that hasn’t changed…. but as time went by things…changed. You…you began to love Disney, and it fueled the majority of your imagination, of my new role… you loved the princes and, as a child, loathed the villains…..” His quieted with sadness. “even as I was then, it did not take long to realize that I was the opposite of what you wished to be, despite now embodying your hopes and dreams, that I was, in fact, what you despised…. I did not wish to be that way. I…. I locked it away, that part of me, buried it beneath everything you ever wished to be, the traits of every prince you admired…”

He sighed and stopped talking as Thomas started bandaging his jaw. Perhaps sensing that Roman wasn’t finished, Thomas didn’t ask anything else yet. When he was finished he sat back and waited. Roman didn’t meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor and fidget, drawing his legs back up to his chest and hugging them tightly.

“I buried him so far that it ceased to be an act, that we truly became two halves of one being…. I…I despised him. I despised how he made me think and feel, how he pushed me to act…so I pushed him as far away as I could. It was never enough though, and you’ve seen him affect me, the days when ego and harshness overcome the rest of my being…” he sighed and tightened the death grip on his legs, hugging himself. “I don’t understand it completely myself, Thomas, hell, the day I appeared in the ‘light side’ of your mind was a shock. Somehow, through mutual loathing, we became separate enough that **_I_** was no longer Pride, but merely Creativity, that he was a separate entity that only affected you subconsciously…. not entirely separate though, as you did correctly deem me to also be your ego.”

Thomas stayed silent for a moment, gaze falling to the black mark over Roman’s heart. He frowned and pulled roman’s leg down, so he could run his fingers over it. Roman flinched and chuckled dryly, without humor. “We all have our dark marks…that… ** _he_** , is mine.”

Thomas lifted his gaze to Roman’s, gaze narrowed in wariness and curiosity, but not hostility. “Why is it there?” Roman barked a humorless laugh. “Over my heart you mean?” Thomas’s silence was answer enough. Roman sighed and let his eyes fall shut again, pinching the bridge of his nose as his head hung forward. His voice the clearest it had been since this began, but quiet with weariness. 

“You call Patton your heart, and you are not entirely wrong. Morality and ethos are matters that deal with the soul and empathy of a person, and the heart is indeed the metaphorical seat of both soul and emotion.” He let his hand fall without care and let his gaze rest on Patton where he stood tucked into Logan’s side, for the moment the prince was nearly emotionless save for sorrow and pain. “but he is not all of your heart, that is merely where he ‘lives’, if you will.” His eyes slipped shut as he sighed heavily. “Pride is against morality, it must be.” 

His gaze dropped, and he looked toward Thomas but did not yet meet his gaze, instead staring just past his shoulder. “Pride earned is one thing, but **_arrogance_** is quite another. It poisons logic into believing you can do anything you damn well please and that you can rationalize anything. It silences caution and abuses deceit, turning you against yourself until you think you are invincible.” He winced minutely but ignored the twin flinches that came from Virgil and Deceit at the rather literal explanation of what Pride had done to them. His gaze fell back on Patton, voice bitter and sad. “And once it’s done that, it destroys your morality.” Patton shuddered and shrunk back. “You think you are invincible. You lie to yourself without knowing it. You believe you can rationalize anything into being **_right._** You believe you are right, that you know best and that only you know best. You believe that anything you do is perfect and any criticism is beneath you.” He paused and sighed deeply. “And then…then you don’t care anymore.” His gaze slid down to the floor, blurring as his voice became thick with tears again. “You don’t care about the emotions of others, nor their well-being. Your ethics disintegrate, your empathy evaporates, and your **_morality_** is gone, replaced with something…something exactly its opposite.” 

Roman’s voice had already been sorrowful and oddly resigned, but it took on a bitter tone that made Thomas realize the prince wasn’t just describing what pride could do to him, the host. But what it had been doing to Roman, even from the shadows. He set his gaze back on the mark above Roman’s heart, not liking the dark blood smeared around it. Silently, he set to cleaning it off the unmarked skin. “It only covers half your heart…” Roman hummed but it sounded choked. “Yeah, well, it covers enough of it.”

Thomas looked up at him, a brief glance before returning to his task. “He never stopped affecting you, did he?” He asked it lightly, but Roman still flinched. “N..no…. he didn’t…” Roman sighed. “Is that why you acted the way you did, before…?” Roman winced and hunched forward as far as he could while Thomas was cleaning the blood from his chest, head hung low. “Yes….” He sighed and opened his eyes to set his weary gaze on the floor, the patterning of the carpet swirling hazily in his vision.

“Morality…he could tolerate…begrudgingly…didn’t find much need to worry about him” Roman snorted softly. “Too arrogant to acknowledge how bloody scary Patton can be…Logic…he could live with, not concern himself with...” He pressed his eyes shut tight, voice catching. “but Anxiety and Deceit-“ his voice choked off and pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle the sob. It passed and he rubbed at his eyes. “he could not tolerate them. Their presence, their jobs, their very existence…. they were the two most dangerous to him…to his plans…..” A shudder wracked through Roman but he kept the sob back, voice going tight. “He couldn’t kill them either…. not for lack of trying…” at that a single sob did break free, but he immediately cut it off and took in a strangled breath, then cleared his throat. 

He dropped his hand and once again stared blankly at the ground. “After we separated, well, as separated as we could be, he was content enough to be silent…even if he did do his best to put me intentionally at odds with Patton and Logan. But when Virgil –“ his voice broke. “when Virgil showed up…I couldn’t stop his influence anymore…I barely kept him from becoming dominant between us again.” His voice had trailed off into a broken whimper, so he stopped to steady himself. Thomas and the others let him.

Roman raised his head and looked toward Thomas, but did not let his gaze go past the man’s neck to his face, much less his eyes. “It took more strength than I possess, and more help than I would have liked, to treat Virgil even amicably. To my shame, I could do no more, but when Deceit…” he took a deep breath, eyes staring upward, ignoring the clear tears that flowed over their edges. “when Deceit came, I couldn’t…there was **nothing** I could do to keep **_him_** at bay anymore…my own anger at Deceit for his tricks did not help matters…so I hid. I avoided him…” he smiled wryly, a sick twist of his lips as his gaze fell again. “But anger left unfaced festers, and when I did finally see Deceit face to face again, my anger was enough that I wasn’t even conscious of how much P-pride was affecting me.” His gaze dropped in shame to the ground. “Deceit’s charge broke what little control I had left over him….” Roman swallowed thickly and looked away, staring unseeingly at the wall, away from everyone else. “it…it wasn’t their fault…they ne-never did anything… but they were the c-catalyst that let him out…and I couldn’t stop- couldn’t stop it…” the prince’s voice broke, fully this time, and he just barely held back sobs with a hand over his own mouth.

Thomas said nothing, nor did the others, though while they were in various stages of shock, Thomas was turning everything over in his head, considering and calculating everything. Absentmindedly he stroked his thumb over the inside of Roman’s wrist where his hand still rested around the other’s arm. His brows furrowed after a minute had passed.

“Roman, you separated from him, for lack of a better term, you locked him away. Why didn’t you separate completely?” Though there was no malice in the words, the oddly cool and neutral tone made Roman shudder. He shook his head minutely. “I do not even know if we could have, completely. We started as one being…I do not know how separate we are even now. But it was not for lack of trying.” He took a shaky breath, eyes fixed on his lap now. “It was not for lack of trying that we are still connected…. Years I spent trying to tear the anchor of him out of me…but I cannot… pain notwithstanding, I am not strong enough. Regardless, I eventually came to the conclusion how…foolish it would have been if I ever succeeded.”

Thomas’s eyebrow rose, the only change in expression, indeed in demeanor at all. “How’s that?”

Roman laughed, head tilted back, twisted lips pulled back over fractured teeth. It was a broken sound filled with shattered glass that made Patton wince and caused Virgil to shrink back ever so slightly into Deceit. Roman was broken. And as they watched where they stood, though they said nothing, each and every one of the four sides hanging back in caution, came to the same conclusion: they might not be able to fix him.

For the first time Roman’s gaze strayed closer to Thomas’s, but still could not quite meet it. “You’ve seen how much damage he did to me, Thomas, what he’s done as a whisper in your subconscious.” The second laugh sounded more like that of a mad man. “What the **_hell_** do you think he’d have done on his own?!” The laughter died and Roman hunched in on himself again, shaking his head as a man resigned to hang at the gallows. “No. Better he stay trapped within me. Better he hurt me, and only me, rather than have a manifested form of his own to hurt **_you._** ”

Roman was hunched in on himself, the hand not caught in Thomas’s grip rubbing absently at his ribs, a haunted and faraway look in his eyes. As Virgil watched from the sidelines pieces started to fall into place like a long-forgotten jigsaw puzzle scattered throughout the dusty corners of an attic. He stiffened, eyes going wide, and as Deceit gasped quietly behind him, he knew his old friend had followed the same train of thought to the same conclusion. Logan looked back at them curiously, having missed the signs he wouldn’t know to look for. Virgil swallowed thickly, voice trembling but strong as he called out to his longtime nemesis. “We’re not the only ones he hurt, are we Roman?”

Roman’s flinch and quick movement to curl himself into a tight ball, arms grasping his own chest as if in protection - even at the cost of ripping his hand out of Thomas’s, to the other’s great surprise - were the only answer the anxious trait needed. Deceit whimpered and it trailed off into a hiss of unhappiness and anger. Virgil was inclined to agree with that sentiment, but his normal reactions of growling or hissing wouldn’t achieve anything right now. Eyes even wider than they were before, he swallowed past the sudden feeling of crushed glass in his throat and asked a rather insensitive question in his shock. “H-how?! He…you…you share a body. How…?”

Roman shook almost violently but barked another laugh, even more broken than the previous two, this one filled only with pain, a deep and cutting pain that made one think of the wailing of an injured dog when heard. Thomas winced just as Patton did. 

“The imagination can be such a wonderful thing… it’s where I go to battle beasts to find inspiration and create ideas…I can create anything there…escape there…hide there…” his voice became strained. “A place where anything can take shape isn’t always so wonderous….” 

Logan’s eyes went wide, lips parting silently in an almost gasp. Patton did gasp, but it turned into a wretched sob as the two realized just what it was Virgil and Deceit had picked up on. Those two, for their part, looked at Roman in a new light. Not as the host to their abuser - though he had certainly been that - but as a victim the same as them. Thomas caught up with the four of them pretty quickly, in truth he had already known, but he hadn’t wanted to put the pieces together into such a gruesome picture. For the first time, his expression and tone showed emotion other than neutrality, softening and straining with grief. “So every time you went into the imagination to create things and come up with ideas…?” He trailed off, and Roman nodded brokenly. “N…not every time…. there are certain areas…and I avoid them unless I have to follow a creature there…. but he doesn’t always stay in their bounds…”

He trailed off helplessly and the other five absorbed this information. That meant that every time Roman did his job - every time Thomas daydreamed, every time he created something, every time they needed a new script, every time he dreamed, every time he fantasized – Roman had walked into hell, and more often than not he had met the devil wearing his own face. 

Patton clamped a hand over his mouth harshly to quiet the sobs tearing out of his throat, Logan, uncharacteristically, tried to reach back to steady and comfort him, but he barely kept his balance as this information set itself in his brain, as every possible meaning, every possible variable, and every possible outcome to the dataset played itself out for him to see. He swayed dangerously, nausea suddenly threatening to knock him over, it would have if it weren’t for the presence of Patton leaned against his back. 

Deceit had pressed himself to Virgil’s side by this point, and the two of them were holding onto to each other with an arm around the other, old memories, living nightmares from the past playing through their minds, merging with the knowledge that Roman had faced the same…possibly worse, and for much longer than they had. 

Thomas took all of this in without thinking about it, after all, anything and everything his sides knew or realized, he knew too, should he actually think about it. He bit back the wish to scream, or sob, or cry, or tear apart the thing that had hurt his Roman so badly, knowing it would do no good. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of and lifted himself onto the couch to sit by the creative trait, and wrapped his arms around him, drawing Roman to his chest and holding him close as the prince finally broke and began to sob.

His cries were a broken and pathetic thing, the wretchedness sounding from them cutting them all to the bone in a manner none of them- not even Logan with his literal dictionary of a mind – could describe in words. Through his sobs, they heard occasional words and sentences, broken up as they were gasped out roughly. 

_‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I tried.’ ‘I didn’t mean to.’ ‘my fault.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘shouldn’t have let him.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ’I’m sorry.’ ‘I’m sorry.’_

Virgil and Deceit both jerked forward instinctively, a desperate wish to comfort Roman as they had once comforted each other cutting through them, but they each halted equally as instinctively, for they neither one had any idea what to do. So they held each other, taking what comfort they could from whom they had thought was the only other person in the mindscape who could understand, until now. 

Patton tried to move forward as well, a sob finally breaking out of his throat, but the weight of the shock and grief he was under drove him to the ground. Logan’s stunted but still quick reflexes were the only thing that kept the man from falling completely as his friend caught him. All the same, the end result found Patton on his knees, Logan knelt beside him on one knee, arms wrapped around Patton from having caught him. The logical trait was staring, unblinking and wide-eyed at Roman, a sickness choking his throat and cutting off his usually bountiful speech. 

Thomas felt all of this, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He felt it hit him like a punch to the chest, and his breath hitched in response, but he ignored it. There would be time for his own sorrow and shock, and theirs, later, for now, he took a deep breath and focused on holding the man in his arms whose whole world, and indeed being, was finally tearing apart for the first time after 29 years of being precariously stitched together.

Roman’s tears, it seemed, had no end to them. Thomas continued to hold him, a silent and steadying presence of strength and comfort. After a time, Roman’s tears did begin to dry up, even if his sorrow and pain did not, but he had exhausted himself too much to move, and so stayed where he was, curled mostly in a ball and burrowed into Thomas’s chest, head resting very nearly over the other’s heart. As the energy to cry faded he allowed the steady thrumming under his ear to lull him into a calmer state. He opened his eyes now, but rather unseeingly as his gaze did not go past Thomas’s chest and upper arm. Thomas, for his part, just kept his arms wrapped securely around the creative trait, one hand lightly running over Roman’s arm and shoulder. As he felt Roman’s breathing even out and his body start to go lax he chanced splitting his attention away from Roman to check on the others. 

As he has already been aware, the other four had moved closer but had not interfered. Logan sat on the arm of the couch, his normally smooth expression roughened by furrowed brows and the slightest of frowns fueled by concern as he watched Roman. His posture too was less rigid than normal, as he was hunched forward a bit to reach out one hand to Patton’s shoulder. Patton had also moved close and had taken the open side of the couch. He had curled himself into a ball, pulling his legs up to his chest hugging himself. Though he was pressing back into Logan’s touch, he was leaned forward and edged as close to Roman as he could be without touching him. That being said, it wasn’t lost on Thomas that the fatherly trait’s arms kept twitching as he stopped himself from reaching out and pulling Roman to him. Thomas tried to ignore the twinge of hurt he felt at seeing the sad frown set in Patton’s expression, instead he looked away from them and toward the floor in front of him.

Virgil and Deceit were there. At first, they had stood before the couch awkwardly, not sure where to fit into the picture, wanting to care for Roman, but both still a little afraid and knowing from harsh experience with each other that sometimes you just had to wait for things to pass before you could approach the broken and try to mend them. They had hovered for a moment before understanding that this was not going to be a quick process, and had settled on the floor. Virgil, particularly, had sat on one of his legs, pulling the other up and hugging it to his chest. He wasn’t completely settled though and was pitched forward the same as Patton, a hair-trigger away from propelling himself up and forward to Roman. Deceit kept the same overly attentive and concerned gaze on Roman that Virgil did, and he was only minorly less tense, but he sat completely, legs hugged to his chest, curled into Virgil’s side.

The lot of them sat in silence for a time longer, but once Roman had calmed completely and was resting in a near-sleep state, they could wait no longer. Patton was the one who reached out, a hand pressed gently to Roman’s shoulder, accompanied by a soft call of the other’s name, “Ro?”

The effect was immediate, and unfortunate, as the side in question immediately tensed and his breath hitched. Virgil was up in an instant, kneeling in front of Roman and ducking to get in his field of vision, though the prince didn’t seem to see him at all. 

“Princey.” Virgil was conscious not to touch the other and to keep his tone low and even. “It’s alright. You’re safe.” Roman flinched and Virgil frowned, understanding quite immediately. “And so are we, Princey. Just focus on me, ok? On my voice. Ok?” Roman didn’t move, but his breathing was labored once again. “Easy Roman. Focus on your breathing. In 4 seconds, hold 7, out 8. Alright? Again. In 4, hold 7, out 8.” This process repeated for some time, and the others did not protest letting anxiety calm Roman from the beginnings of a panic attack. 

When Roman’s breathing was once again steady, though heavy and wet, Virgil risked slowly raising a hand, well within Roman’s vision, and pressing it to his thigh. Roman twitched slightly but did not panic or shy away, but he kept his gaze fixed unseeingly ahead at Thomas’s arm where it curled around him. Deceit, unsure what to do but remembering plenty of times when all he had been able to do was sit close, moved closer and sat down, leaning against the couch. One of his hands instinctively reached out and fisted in Virgil’s jacket, the anxious trait easily reaching out to settle his free hand on Deceit’s knee. Deceit pressed close to Thomas’s legs and laid his head down on the couch, looking up at Roman who met his gaze.

Roman’s face crumpled, and he whimpered tearfully but did not cry as he had no tears left. _“I’m sorry.”_ His voice broke in a dry sob and he closed his eyes, unable to turn his head away. _“I’m so fucking sorry…”_

Thomas knew this wasn’t the time for all problems to be resolved, indeed it would be sometime before that point came. But he did know that right now they needed to take care of Roman. He tightened his arms around the distraught trait and ran one hand through his hair, an old trick that had calmed him as a child and had the same effect on the creative side now. _“Roman.”_ It was a whisper, soft and strong. “It’s alright.”

Roman shook his head immediately, almost violently, but could do no more as he found himself held closer still. Left with no other choice he stilled and listened to the calm and steady voice above him. “It will be alright Roman.” The hand carded through his hair again. “We will figure this out, and it will be ok.”

He wanted to disagree, he wanted to apologize, but he knew that there was no use arguing. He took a shaky breath and nodded. His eyes though, they left no doubt that he didn’t believe it. Thomas smiled, a sad curl of his lips at the corner into the smallest grin, colored over with grief and love. “It will be aright Roman, and we _will_ fix this, I promise.”

Roman didn’t respond, but he relaxed again. His eyes felt heavy, but he lifted his gaze to find Deceit and Virgil, a desperate need driving the action. When he found no malice or betrayal nor accusation in their eyes, but only concern and care, he finally allowed himself to stop. It wasn’t solved, not by any means, but he was so tired, had been for years, but was beyond exhaustion now. His eyes slipped shut and he allowed the comforting presence of the others around him, the surety of Thomas’s promise, and the steady beating of a heart left unstained beating under his ear lull him into the first restful sleep he’d had since he had become a separate entity. Maybe, maybe he was wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> So....what'd you think?? I love it when you guys/gals/nb pals comment, and I attempt to answer all of them. (Kudos are also amazing) <3


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